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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29976573">Itch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/galient/pseuds/galient'>galient</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>May the clouds burn pink again [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Family Feels, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Guilt, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Self-Indulgent, Self-Worth Issues, Slice of Life, Tommy doesnt know what a happy functional family is, Tommy picks up animal tendencies from being around hybrids his whole life, TommyInnit Needs a Break (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Touching, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:48:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29976573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/galient/pseuds/galient</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommyinnit doesn't know what touchstarved means, but he knows for sure thats not what he is. </p><p>Spoilers, that's exactly what he is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ranboo &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Ranboo &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>May the clouds burn pink again [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>839</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> "Tommy?" </p><p> A soft rounded voice came, and Tommy looked over with a grunt. "What," He says, "Is that." </p><p> Ranboo giggles nervously, arms wrapped around a small lump that had its arms slung around the tall boy's neck. "Michael." He replies, bouncing it slightly. </p><p> "What's a Michael?" Tommy blurts, and Ranboo smiles. The thing turns its head, the blue blanket strung around it wrapped around its head. They're a piglin, a baby one, to be exact. Tommy hates children. </p><p> "Tommy!" The baby piglin repeats garishly, giggling softly. Okay, hate is a strong word. </p><p> "You have a child?" Tommy asks slowly, and Ranboo shrugs, making the baby piglin bounce gently. "Me and Tubbo adopted him." </p><p> Tommy was still reeling from his earlier realization that Tubbo and Ranboo had gotten married, and if this isn't the icing on the cake he didn't know what else was. "And I 'aven't met the fella? What the hell, Ranboo?" Tommy questions, betrayed. </p><p> Michael, Tommy assumes, squirms in Ranboo's arms, sticking his arms out of the blanket.  "Well- that's what I'm doing right now," Ranboo says, deadpan. "Have you not noticed the family portraits everywhere?" </p><p> Tommy grimaces, no he hadn't. He'd been caught up in his own head lately, a bit on edge, it's why he decided to visit Tubbo in the first place. </p><p> Tubbo, speak of the devil, swings open the door, swiftly shutting it in to avoid the cold. "Hey gang." The brunette drawls, and Tommy scowls. </p><p> Michael slips out of Ranboo's arms, forcing the half toned teen to crouch down and lower him safely. Michael pads over to Tubbo, the little thing, blanket dragging after him, and bumps into his legs. Tubbo bends down to pat his head, and Tommy's frown deepens. </p><p> "What the hell Tubbo?! Why didn't you tell me you had a son?" Tommy whines, gesturing wildly at the young piglin. Tubbo ignores him, the bastard, instead rising to unbutton the furred coat he donned and shrugging it off his shoulders. </p><p> Tubbo dusts the snow from his pants, shaking his head and letting his hair spring back into his face as he brushes it back. "Hey, Tommy." Tubbo says to him, more privately, softer. Tommys shoulders drop down, and he offers a small half nod with his eyes shut before he opens them again. </p><p> Ranboo watches the interaction in bewilderment, and Tubbo turns to him with a wide, toothy smile stretching across his face. "Ranboo! My beloved, sexy boy! Hello!" Tubbo waltzes over and hugs his side, and it's so casual Tommy feels his fingers tighten into a fist. </p><p> Ranboo rolls his eyes, and a playful smile curls his face as he pats the brunettes back. Tommy fake gags, turning away from the married couple and swinging his legs back over the chair. </p><p> Michael stands in front of him, sea blue softness wrapped around his shoulders. Tommy blinks, "Ayup?" He says, and Michael gives him a woopy form of a grin. </p><p> The child shuffles closer, his tee has a boldy punched out label of his name, the letters easily identifiable as comic sans. "Does he talk?" Tommy looks over to Tubbo and the tall prick, thumb jutted out in Michael's direction. </p><p> The two break out of their odd, intense staring match and muted whispers to look over at them. "A bit of common speak, he's still learning." Says Tubbo, and Tommy redirects his attention back to the toddler. </p><p> "Has he learned fuck yet?" Tommy asks, observing the child as if he were a zoo animal. "Fuck!" Michael replies, and Tommy wheezes. </p><p> Ranboo sighs, the bitch, and runs a hand against the long hairs curling on his neck. "He's already a bad influence. I knew it. Didn't I tell you I knew it?" Ranboo babbles to Tubbo, who shrugs. "I'm a bad influence too. You still married me." </p><p> Tommy leans against the counter, laughing triumphantly. "Yeah bitch! We're a packaged deal, and we both are influencers!" Michael giggles, heartwarmingly, and Tommy clutches his chest at the soft noise near his feet. </p><p> "I know, I know." Ranboo dismisses, waving his hand about. </p><p> A tug on his jeans makes Tommy look down briefly, catching sight of Michael shying away. The zombie piglin emits a soft rumbly noise, questioning. Tommy thinks for a moment, before he grumbles back an odd reincarnation of sounds he's heard from Techno. It sounds barely anything like the rough language of Piglins, but it suffices.</p><p> Michael perks, ears flicking as he tilts his head. Tommy smiles a bit goofily, a worried pinch to his brows as the piglin babbles something to him. </p><p> Tommy can feel the burning stare against the side of his face, so he snaps his gaze to the two occupants in the room. "What?" He asks defensively, Ranboo's jaw drops as he stares. Tubbo blinks owlishly.  </p><p> "You speak piglin?" Tubbo says incredulously, stepping forward. Tommy squints. "Of course not. You would know, Tubbo." </p><p> Tubbo shakes his head, lilting his lips into a grin. "Of course not, he says. Sometimes you astound me, Tommyinnit." </p><p> "Oi, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Tommy squawks. </p><p> Tommy finds himself spending the rest of the evening in Snowchester, since he'd been invited for dinner in Tubbo and Ranboo's home. Even if he hadn't, he would've found a way to annoy them both into letting him stay out of the politeness of their hearts. </p><p> Michael strays from him, sticking close to his adoptive fathers and keeping his eyes on Tommy while he observes him behind a curtain of curiosity and shyness. Tommy ignores the child's gaze, but he especially doesn't like the odd feeling in his chest that tingles as Ranboo holds Michael close to him. </p><p> The home is soon filled with the scent of tomato soup, and Tommy sits on the sofa and flicks through a dozen photos composed of Michael, neatly written descriptions and sentiments in a slanted handwriting Tommy hates he remembers so well. </p><p> Tommy snorts at the images taken of Michael climbing on Tubbo's back, his best friends face a panicked slew of emotions, while the small toddler holds onto strands of his hair. The Polaroid is blurry, and Ranboo laughs lightly once he catches sight of it in Tommy's hands. </p><p> "I forgot about that," He says, on brand, "Michael loves to ride on his back and use his horns as handles." </p><p> Tommy snickers, "Yeah?" Tubbo is bustling around in the kitchen, busy making grilled cheese sandwiches while Michael peers over the edge of the counter to watch Tubbo press the spatula on the sandwich. Its quiet, for the most part, other than the banter provided by the brunette and his.. ugh husband. </p><p> "No. You're not allowed to come in here after last time." Said Tubbo, face flat. </p><p> "What? That wasn't even my fault!" Ranboo exclaims, and while Tommy didn't exactly know what they were talking about, it was a bit amusing to watch Ranboo flail about. "It's not like you cook any better anyways." </p><p> Tubbo's face twitched, before a sweet smile, a sickening one Tommy knew well, grew over his face. "You fucked up cereal, Ranboo. Cereal." Michael pads over to lie in a small beanbag chair near the coffee table. </p><p> "Spaghetti." Michael tells him, sagely, and Tommy nods wisely in response. "So true." </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Tommy laid across the couch lazily, legs spread across the abnormally long couch clearly fitted to inhabit Ranboo's lanky exterior. Its after they all ate, and he seems lax, eyes dipping close and brushing the ends of his eyelashes against his cheeks. He's not really. </p><p> Tommy is hyper aware of the presences in the room, listening to the rhythm of their footsteps to gauge how many steps away they were. The room is fairly warm, the ceiling high and far away as he stares up at it. He's not bored, but he's maliciously tempted to claim he is. </p><p> <i> Attention seeker. </i> Something whispers in the back of his mind, and Tommy squashes the amusement previously rising up in him. Ranboo and Tubbo are talking aimlessly to one another, and despite the warmth of the room, Tommy begins to feel a sick cold feeling swell up in his gut. </p><p> The house is hilariously baby proofed, layered with soft materials and has absence of any sharp or quote on quote, dangerous objects (Tommy rolls his eyes.)  Quietly, another soft thought is met to the other ones. <i> They care a lot about Michael. </i> it's a given, hes their damn son afterall. But. Tommy wonders how two people without parents were able to become such great ones. </p><p> The blond is snapped out of his train of thought by a tapping against his head, and he whips his head around to see the fucker who did it. </p><p> Michael grins at him, and from how close he is Tommy can see the stitching in the boys eyepatch. Tommy climbs up on his elbows, sitting up to look at the young zombie piglin and grunt in question. </p><p> Michael pads around the couch to come to his front, and Tommy watches silently as he slings his arms over the cushion and hauls himself up next to him. </p><p> Hes so incredibly <i> small. </i> </p><p> Tommy feels something squeeze in his chest, and before he can focus on it Michael is clambering into his lap. Tommy freezes, eyes wide as the boy plops down on his legs, leaning back onto his curled arm. </p><p> This small little animal was so trusting, and young, and god. A toddler he just met trying to sleep on you shouldnt be as emotional as it feels right now, but it is. Tommy manically looks over to the other two people in the room, who had gone mysteriously quiet, watching him and giggling softly. </p><p> The weight of Michael curled into him almost burns, the small toddler clings to his clothing and buries his snout in his arm. This kind of reminds him of when he used to hug Henry, except much tinier. </p><p> Tommy, in a misfit of confused emotions, shifts his legs, and tucks his arms around Michael's body. Michael sinks into him, and almost immediately, lulled to sleep. </p><p> "What the fuck." Tommy whispers softly. Hes gotten so fucking soft just for this dumb kid he met a couple hours ago. </p><p> Was this the power that made Ranboo and Tubbo adopt the fella? It had to be, because Tommy was supposed to <i> hate </i> Michael. He was supposed to hate Ranboo too, for stealing his best friend, for being stupid and annoying and all that sappy crap. </p><p> And as hard as he tried to, as much as he stewed in the pool of jealousy and resentment, tried to blame Ranboo for how distant him and Tubbo have gotten- He still let himself hold their child in his arms, anxiety wet on his fingers, and not allow himself to move for even a second while the young lad slept peacefully. </p><p> "What the fuck." Tommy repeated, and the warmth wading from the smallers body seeped into his bones. Tubbo laughed from the kitchen, Ranboo smiles at him. </p><p> "I think he likes you." Ranboo tells him, and Tommy knows his hands are annoyingly shaky. Tommy snorts. "Of course he does, everyone likes me- well, not everybody, but most- some people." He rambles, and Ranboo is staring at him so fondly he feels oddly overwhelmed. </p><p> "Well, Y'know, whatever." Tommy says, and he looks down at the toddler to avoid their gazes. Michael snuggles into him, and Tommy hates how much the pressure comforts him. </p><p> "Fuck you, Ranboo." He decides, and the tall prick sputters to defend himself. </p><p> "Alright, that's enough." Tubbo laughs, and Tommy holds back a grin at the wheezy sound. "Weren't you going to go see Foolish?" </p><p> Ranboo's eyes widened. "Oh shoot, I forgot about that. I better go check on him." Tubbo nods his head, reaches out to give his arm a squeeze while he grabs his furry coat from the hook. </p><p> Tommy observes silently from the couch, while Ranboo leans down to deliver a chaste kiss to Tubbo's forehead as he inches out of the door. Tommy absently runs his fingers over the coarse hairs sprouting from Michael's little head. </p><p> Tubbo shuts the heavyweight door, sighing softly. The brunette turns and looks at him, blinking. "Tired, big man?" He questions, slow paced footsteps quiet as he nears. </p><p> "Of course not." He yawns, rolling his head against the back of the couch. Michael is so warm, and heavy, and the pressure he applies curled up against his stomach is making his eyes grow leaden. </p><p> A hand rests on his hair, Tommy is too tired to be embarrassed as he leans into the touch. "Go to sleep, Tommy. I'll keep you safe, yeah?" The blond lets his eyes close, humming as he twists into a more comfortable position with Michael's head against his chest. "I don't-" he yawns again, "-need your shitty protection anyway, Tubzo." Tommy shoves down the worry that rises about staying the night. </p><p> "Okay." Lithe fingers scratch his scalp, and Tommy forgets much else as he rubs his cheek into the soft leather couch. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Get ready babes</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Be careful what you say, children will listen.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> "Ta- Ta..?" </p><p> Tommy erupts from his sleep very suddenly with something tight in the pit of his chest. He breathes shallowly and unevenly, eyes narrowing in an unfocused gaze of a pink blur. </p><p> "Michael?" Tommy mumbles, rubs his eyes of sleep. The young lad was curled up, chubby legs tucked underneath him while he stared. "Tah.." Michael struggles, scrunches up his nose. </p><p> <i> "Tommy." </i> Tommy corrects, stretching out the syllables tiredly. Michael lights up. "Mmmm." He repeats, pressing his lips together, "Mm! Tom!" The blond shrugs, pushing himself up. He feels undeniably heavy. </p><p> "Mmmm." Tommy agreed, looking out of the glass window to gauge how late it had become. Tubbo was slumped against the dinner table, snoring softly. Dim light flickers from the oven's exhaust hood. "Where's the other one?" Tommy murmurs. </p><p> "Papa's out!" Whispers Michael. "Out, out, out! There he goes!" </p><p> Tommy frowns. "Still?" His voice croaks with drowsiness. "Mhm, mhm!" Michael affirms, and It's a mannerism Tommy recognizes well from Ranboo. </p><p> "Hm, well. You miss 'im, don't you lad?" Tommy grumbles, springing up to rest his hands on hips. He remains his steps and voice as quiet can be, as to not awake Tubbo. Michael nods frantically, ear bouncing with the movement. </p><p> "Why don't we go find the fella then?" Tommy suggests, holding his arms out for the toddler. Michael squeals, albeit quietly, and stands on unsteady legs to reach out. Tommy scoops him up, shushing gently and pointing to Tubbo discreetly. </p><p> Michael gasped, pressing his hand to his snout. Tubbo is not going to be pleased if he takes Michael out of the safe, confined house, but the boy was sleepless, and so was Tommy. Maybe he was a bit worried about the tall prick, too. </p><p> He curls a soft woolen blanket over Tubbo shoulders, shushing all along the way. He buries in a large blue coat, cuddling Michael against his chest. "Let's go find the dumbass, yeah?" Tommy says, and Michael, face squished as he looks up at him from his collar, nods brilliantly. </p><p> Tommy darts out the door, and the rush of adrenaline is relief more than anything. Sure, he liked the house, but the domesticity was overwhelming. The snow patters down, some flakes lodge in the cowlicks of hair. Michael seems mystified, the crunch of snow beneath Tommy's booted feet make the baby piglin squeal in delight. </p><p> He's looking for Ranboo, the night is dangerous, especially on the unfinished side of the Mansion, which he first decided to look. It's the most logical afterall, or whatever bullshit. Ranboo was meeting with that Foolish guy, so he should be here. </p><p> For a second, as he clutches Michael to his chest, hes hit with a sudden idea that maybe bringing along the baby piglin with the most overprotective parents ever was a little reckless. And stupid, and impulsive, or whatever word Tubbo would describe it as. </p><p> Mostly torches line the walls, but in some spaces they clear off the teeter off the trail. His denim trousers protect his legs little from the cold, but it strangely reminds himself of back when he used to live with Technoblade. In the cold, surrounded with spruce saplings and hills covered in snow. </p><p> Tommy suddenly hears a hiss, behind him, while he is scanning the inside of the empty mansion, and he tenses. Fuck. Before he can brace himself for the inevitable <i> bang. </i> He tucks his arms around Michael, but is surprised when footsteps bang against the wooden floor, and a body crashes into him, long arms wrap around him. The touch is a blaze, and he yelps as hes brought to the ground. </p><p> Tommy makes sure to protect Michael's head, eyes clenching shut as the creeper explodes. Its familiar, loud, and rings in his ears. The person above him grunts, voice muffled as the explosion churns inside his head, gripping a few select emotions to explode in reaction. </p><p> "-ommy! Are you okay, is Michael okay, why are you out here without armor-" Ranboo is talking to him, and Tommy turns over, sturdy wood floor hard against his back. The shock is steady, and Tommy stares at Ranboo, eyes circled with red rims. Michael squeals, more in astonishment than anything. It reminds Tommy how much in danger he just was. </p><p> He very, very suddenly, realizes how fucking delusional he was being. </p><p> "Tommy?" </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Guide them along the way, children will glisten.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> The door is shut behind them, and Ranboo hadn't talked much while they traversed back to their home. Tommy feels a sense of dread as he sets Michael down on the floor. </p><p> Tubbo jerked up from his sleeping position, hair mussed and his eyes clipped with sleep. Ranboo smiles rather tiredly at him. "What-" He attempts, "What happened?" His voice is crimped with sleep, and Tommy suddenly feels guilty. </p><p> Ranboo unbuttons his cloak, one laced with patterns that are familiar but not enough for Tommy to remember the meaning of it. "Michael got worried." Says Ranboo, and Tommy snaps his gaze to the taller. "Got Tommy to come look for me. Nothing big, dear." Ranboo plucks off his magenta slick armor.  </p><p> Tommy feels sick to his stomach. Thats- not. They should be mad. Why isn't Ranboo mad? He just put their son in mortal danger, he would murder anyone else. <i> Anyone else. </i> He realizes with a pang, and he feels a rising bitterness. Of course they pitied him. What else could it be. </p><p> Its cold without Michael. Tubbo rubs at his eyes and yawns, and stands up with a heavy groan. "Go to bed." Ranboo urges softly, comes close to run his hands down Tubbo's arms. The blue blanket was discarded on the chair. </p><p> "Okay." Tubbo agrees eventually, and yawns again. He kneels down to scoop Michael in a tight hug, Tommy aches, and then kisses the piglins head. Tubbo climbs up the spruce addled latter.  </p><p> Tommy doesn't realize, but Ranboo hovers near him, and places a large hand on his shoulder. The blond tenses with it. His head feels a bit muddled, and Ranboos voice comes in after. "Take off your coat, man. You're not going anywhere." </p><p> Tommy wants to believe him, he wants to sink in the quiet resoluteness and familiar comfort of his best friend, and with how much he wants to indulge in the heavyweight against his shoulder,  but he can't. He knows he'll mess it up. Still. </p><p> Tommy brushes off Ranboo's touch. "I'm leaving in the morning." He decides. Ranboo raises a heavy brow. "Okay, Tommy. Please keep inside, away from creepers okay?" </p><p> "I'm not stupid." He bites back. He doesn't mean to. He's just tired. Guilt and confusion eats at his spine. Ranboo is so kind, patient, and Tommy hates him for it.  The hybrid raises a slow hand, and Tommy watches as he buries it in his curls. </p><p> Against his will, he leans into the hand. Ranboo seems to understand his solemn expression. "If it's any consolation, Tubbo will be mad at you later. We don't pity you, okay?" </p><p> What the fuck. Fuck this tall prick. How does he do that. "Shut the fuck up." Tommy says, without any real heat, and his vision wiggles as Ranboo curls his fingers into his soft hair. "Sorry." Tommy mutters. And he is. He's upset he's sorry, because he's never been sorry for much bigger things, so why was he starting now. </p><p> Tommy hates how much thinking he's been doing the past day. "Go to sleep." Ranboo tells him, and Tommy does feel better now that he knows Ranboo is home. (Home? Jesus.) </p><p> "Don't tell me what to do." He replies, but he still chases after Ranboos hand once he let's it fall from his head. </p><p> Tommy falls asleep again that night, buried in quilts and blankets, and desperately praying Tubbo doesn't kill him as soon as he wakes. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Really short chapter, my b. Will explore more of this later.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Tubbos interval</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tune into the shortest chapter ever. I am so disappointed in myself but I wanted to get something out :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Tubbo is awakened thoroughly by someone sniffing his face. Tubbo scrunches up his nose for a moment before he huffs out a strong breath through his nostrils. He can feel Michael reel back at the fast air, and then sneezes. </p><p> Tubbo cracks open his eye, a stupid smile spreading across his face. Michael is crouched near him, eye wide. "Dada." Michael whispers, little hands reaching out to tap his scarred cheek. </p><p> Tubbo grins,  forward to sweep the baby piglin into his arms, Michael squeals in loud laughter. "C'mere you little hell monster-" Tubbo blows a raspberry into his neck, and Michael bursts onto snorting giggles. Michael kicks his legs and pushes at his head. </p><p> Tubbo gasps. Michael freezes, looking at him attentively. "Did you have any dreams, little dude?" Tubbo questions, pushing all the energy into his voice. </p><p> Michael nods erratically, and babbles something about clouds and juice. Tubbo nods along, and presses an affectionate kiss to his snout. He let's Michael ramble on while he wakes his mind up. </p><p> Normally, Tubbo would dread waking up in the morning, even more so having to interact with people. He's comforted by his son's conjectured speech. Plus, it's just Ranboo and Tommy, he barely has to fill the silence when those two are near. </p><p> Right. Tommy. </p><p> Tubbo frowns, but he quickly twists it into a smile and sits up on his palms. Michael slides comically to his lap. Tubbo stretches, letting out a high pitched yawn. Michael copies him- Tubbo hugs him tight to his chest, only just to hear him screech in happiness. </p><p> "Hungry, little man?" Tubbo asks, slides his legs out of the layers of bed, and Michael nods. "Gotta fix that then." </p><p> Once he reaches the dining room, he catches sight of Ranboo, hunched over by the dinner table. His heart aches, and he knows the hybrids back is gonna <i> kill </i> once he wakes up. Tubbo is still grateful for the unanimous decision to not let Tommy sleep alone, living room or not. Though, its unusual for Tubbo to be the first one up. </p><p> Speaking of which. Tommy is curled up on the couch, blankets falling off the side of the couch. Tubbo is worried about him. The brunette wishes Tommy could just.. talk to him. He knows it's not that simple, especially since it's <i> Tommy </i> he's talking about. Tubbo knows Tommy, so he knows Tommy needs a push if he wants him to talk about his feelings. </p><p> It's okay if he doesn't, anyway. If all Tommy came up here for was to have fun, Tubbo will provide that. if all Tommy came up here for was to sleep near them, that was okay too. Tubbo had missed him, so, so much. Whenever Tommy wanted to talk, or wanted to hear him talk. He would listen. </p><p> Tubbo crouched low to let Michael settle on the floor, and started on making some hot cereal. </p><p>"Let's get this party started." Tubbo says to Michael, and the zombified baby piglin cheers quietly.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Little fact, Tubbo is my favorite dsmp character. So is Ranboo, though. Hopefully, next chapter will be much longer but will probs take longer to get out as well. Sorry pals.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Sometimes, Tommy cries in his sleep. It's not really his fault, he doesn't ever really remember what he was dreaming about, either. All he knows is many nights he wakes up, cold, alone, and a significant wetness on his cheeks. </p><p> Tommy usually doesn't pay it any mind, it'd have to be much worse for it to be notable, and he doesn't really have any reason to think about it too much anyway. Some miniscule, cold part of him is numb from the emptiness of air on his tears. </p><p> Its odd, when he wakes up at Tubbo's house with those same tears. They're irritating once you notice them, they burn in the back of his eyes and they're so cold sliding down the curve of his nose. The air is warm, an accumulating aroma congested in his nose. </p><p> There's gentle, bustling noise, contrasting the usual loud blundering that Tommy associates Tubbo's voice with. He's so, so warm. He keeps silent, because he doesn't like how his voice curves around his words when he's crying. </p><p> "Tommy..?" Here comes Ranboos smooth clad voice. Tommy rakes in a shaky breath. Steps come around the couch, large ones spaced out and uncoordinated. Clumsy. Tommy feels his lip wobble. Ranboo hovers over him, split colored eyes wide with misplaced worry. Can Tommy go one day, one, without constantly being so emotional? </p><p>Tommy chokes on a sob, really, the blond has no idea why he's crying, and he sits up. These past two days should've been normal, Tommy always prays for normal. But. His normal isn't normal, it's different, filled with discord and the only constant Tommy relied on. The constant fighting for survival. </p><p> Wars, exile, prison. He's never had time for normal. The only normal thing was Tubbo, and Tubbo doesn't need him in his normal anymore. </p><p> Tommy didn't want to do this so early in the morning. He didn't want to do this at all, but the most preferable time for his breakdown would be <i> not around his best friend and said best friends new husband and child. </i> </p><p> Tommy wills down another sob past the thick cord of tension in his throat, flattening his hand over his face and pushing past the sleep twirled curls falling in his face. "Tommy, are you okay?" </p><p> Ranboos' hand comes to rest on his shoulder blade, gentle and wonderful, and so very pitiful in the way Tommy flinches at his touch. Fucking hell. </p><p> "Thi-This happens sometimes. Fuck off." Tommy hisses, feels oddly placed heat redden his ears. The blond rubs at his face, spreading salty tears across the expanse of skin. Ranboo is kneeling by the sofa, and the concern, raw and real, etched onto his features is infuriating. Sickeningly irritating. </p><p> The clambering from the kitchen slows down, and Tommy can hear a quiet shush before he directs his attention back to the half toned boy. "No biggie." Tommy sniffs, but his breath is stuttery in a way that's unmistakably distressed. </p><p> Ranboo frowns, and, undoubtedly Tommy is reminded of Technoblades' disappointed scowl. "Do you.. need a hug?" Tommy startles, staring shamelessly at the enderman hybrid. </p><p> It's not a big deal. Tommy knows this. He's alive, breathing, healthy. (Does it really matter how he came to be that way? Does it matter why he avoids such touching so avidly?) There's no reason for him to be upset, none at all. So why does that offer sound so fucking tempting. 

</p><p> Tommy sobs, unabashedly and ugly, and he nods. </p><p> Tommy was unprepared for how passionately his friend engulfs him, wide and full in how he slumps forward to lean. Pressure surrounds him all at once, grounding and squeezing. Tommy <i> melts. </i> He falls into the sweet, almost nauseating embrace. Ranboo is so tall, and lanky, but his chest is wide and he runs warm. </p><p> It reminds him so much of Wilbur. </p><p> Tommy sounds out another taut sob. A tired slip of words pour and bubble out of his mouth on a string of emotional drowsiness. "I'm so <i> tired. </i>" He says, and a hand is curling around his head, so he doesn't stop. "I- I know time heals all wo-wounds. Or whatever crap," Tommy buries himself even deeper into the dark allium scented sweater. He must use softener. </p><p> "I don't- I dont know how to <i> heal. </i>" His voice cracks, and as much as Tommy is pouring his heart out, he's mad how random his outburst has been. He feels guilty that he's been taking it out in such weird ways. On his Friends. </p><p> "I miss Wilbur." Tommy admits, gripping to Ranboo tightly. Another hand, so expectant, so kind, slides up and down his back. Or whatever parts of it that werent covered by Ranboo's arms. Tommy missed Tubbo, so fucking much. </p><p> "We <i> love </i> you, Tommy." Tubbo's voice has that scratchy tack he always does when he starts crying. Tommy should've known, once Tommy starts crying, Tubbo always starts too. </p><p> "Oh dear." Ranboo says, probably upon figuring this out. Michael makes a small grunting noise, presumably as he climbs up the sofa. Tommy feels a tiny body squeeze in between the open spot between him and Ranboo, and two little arms snake around his middle. </p><p> Tommy sniffles, and burrows his nose into Ranboo's shoulder. He hates this alot. He doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve the same happiness Tubbo finally got. Besides, its <i> Tubbo's </i> family, its Tubbo's home. Tommy is happy for him. Of course he is, but some part of him is so upset hes not apart of it. Tubbo's happiness, he means. </p><p> "I hate you." Tommy says, broken and without any of the anger he tries to force. "Let go." Ranboo holds tight, even when Tommy sinks into his chest. "Let go." He sobs again, fingers tightening around the sweater on Ranboo's back. </p><p> He hasn't been hugged like this since- well forever. Ranboo is so sturdy, too, but less so in a way of softness Tommy doesn't quite understand. Tubbo, from when the times they used to touch all the time, when touch wasn't such a significant memory everytime it happened, his hugs were softer in that way too. </p><p> Tommy feels so weak, he woke up upset for no discernible reason, and ended up crying into the tall pricks arms. His skin has a certain itch hiding beneath it, and as he's pressed closer into warmth, he finds the burning ache only a simmer. </p><p> "I don't need your <i> pity." </i> Tommy spits, and hes horrifyingly shaky as he shoves his face in Ranboo's soft shirt. "Are you joking?" Tubbo sighs. Tommy feels his ears burn. </p><p> "I'm fuming with anger right now, Tommy." Tubbo tells him, and Tommy turns his head to look at the brunette in bemusement.  Tubbo does not look in any way angry. Ranboo's arms slacken around him. Michael latches to the front of his shirt. </p><p> The blankets around them part as Tubbo scoots forward. For a split second, Tommy is terrified, but then two wide, but small hands reach out to grab his shoulders. Another second, he wonders briefly if he's going to see the smiley faced mask again, if this sweet, lazy wooden home was all a dream. Tubbo grips his arms lightly, and then gently guides him into a hug. </p><p> For another quiet, warm moment- Tommy sits there, chin tucked over Tubbo's shoulder, breath against his nape, and his best friend curls scarred arms around his waist. Tears once again spring to the forefront of Tommy's ice blue eyes, and he's comforted by the familiar drag of weighted relief. He missed him so much. </p><p> "You're fuming?" Tommy croaks, barely. Tubbo hums, his throat vibrates against the side of Tommy's. "Absolutely." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anyways</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tubbo my love, our terrible small bastard man, big man with big laugh, full of love and hatred alike. We love the lad.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You know, I still have nightmares." </p><p> Tommy blinks, glances at Tubbo from the corner of his eyes. Tubbo stares at nothing in particular, mind veered off somewhere. Tubbo looks back to him, cobalt blue eyes kind. </p><p> "More than often," He licks his lips, fingers twitching against his back. "You're in them." Tommy knows Tubbo is bad at talking in general, so watching the boy attempt to talk about their <i> feelings </i> was weird. </p><p> "You don't-" Tubbo laughs, sad and sweet as he curls closer to him. Tommy finds that the lack of emptiness is jarringly nice. "I worry about you. A lot. Ever- especially-" Tubbo's voice fades, and despite him trying to comfort Tommy, the blond reaches out hesitantly to slot their fingers together. </p><p> Tubbo breathes, and Tommy goes with him. Ranboo is in the kitchen(wasn't he forbidden?), a slight white noise as he flicks on a kettle. Michael is sleeping soundly on Tubbo's lap, arms thrown across his legs and spread out like an eagle. </p><p> "I'm saying, you don't need- you're not <i> alone. </i> Anymore, right?" Tubbo decides, and Tommy resists the urge to say <i> You're wrong, everyone left me, everyone who hasn't pities me, I was loved more when I was dead. </i> "I'm here. Alive, scarred, tired, but I'm alive." Tubbo says, and Tommy hopes he can't feel how clammy his hands are. </p><p> "I- I'm not, Tubbo. You don't. I get that but," Tommy swallows, gentle. You have to be gentle. Dont fuck it up. "I don't have anything to really.. live for, y'know?" </p><p> Tubbo tenses. "What?" </p><p> Shit. "Shit," Tommy hisses, "That's not what I meant, it's that. I've tried <i> so hard </i> to be okay. I wanted so badly to be happy. I tried leaving everyone alone." Tommy swallows. Clatter sounds in the kitchen, and a soft swear is spoken.  </p><p> "I always get thrown into something else, always back to square one, always losing <i> something." </i> He vocalized, the low sunlight streaming from the curtains pours onto the soft blankets and cushion. "I got brought back, I got to escape. But what's the point? Other than killing Dream I suppose." Tommy murmurs, staring off at the wall. </p><p> Tubbo is pressed warm against his side, steady form grounding next to him. "Tommy.." Tubbo soothed. </p><p> "You don't need me anymore Tubbo." Tommy admits, and his eyes are too dried up to conjure a tear. His voice sounds wrecked, even to him, and Tommy hadn't realized how caked his emotions had become from pushing it all away. "You.. have a family. Clearly I'm not a part of it." </p><p> Tubbo gapes at him, scar chipped hands grasp his bicep. "Tommy, of course you're my family, what the hell are you talking about?" </p><p> Tommy screws up his face, freckled nose scrunched with bitterness. "Stop- don't say shit like that, man. I- I know I've been mean to you before but lying is rude." He tries to fluctuate a tone of humor at the end of his words, but Tubbo only looks more concerned. </p><p> "Look, Tubbo." Tommy sighs, he drops his gaze to a sturdy brown of the coffee table. "I.. hurt a lot of people. I know that, and- and I'm not stupid." Tommy scowls, he recalls the heady frown transfixed on Niki's face, and the pushed turn of Jack's brows when he thought he wasn't looking. "I know how people feel about me, and I convince myself I don't care." </p><p> Michael snores lightly against Tubbo. "What else am I supposed to do? I can't do anything but be myself, and everyone seems to hate that." it sounds even more cringe when it comes out his mouth, but he clicks his jaw shut to will down the distaste. </p><p> "I'm gonna be honest." Tubbo says after a moment, and Tommy lifts his gaze to Tubbo's own sturdy brown. "None of us have any clue what we're doing." Tubbo laughs humorlessly, bright with habit, and Tommy tilts his head. </p><p> "As hard as we've tried, as much as we do, the only thing we- we can do, is live." Tubbo explains, shuffles in his seat. Tommy is reminded of how they used to sit on the bench, exchange jovial tired wrought moments, pluck a disc into the tinny jukebox. Instead they sit, broken and full hearted on the brown furred sofa of Tubbo's home. </p><p> "You can choose if you want to spend your days losing them, or lose them with the people you love. I chose the latter, and that means even if I have no idea what I'm doing, I have no idea what I'm doing with someone else. And that. That's what it is to heal." It's the most sound thing Tubbo has said today, and even if it doesn't quite make sense yet, it will. </p><p> Tommy is still staring absently at his friend, processing the words. Ranboo is suddenly near the couch. "We're all a bit screwed in the head." Ranboo chuckles, his split colored eyes crinkle at the edges. It's how he knows it's real. "But at least we're all screwed together." </p><p> Tubbo winces. "Babe, maybe don't say it like that." </p><p> Tommy looks on in confusion as Ranboo blanches. "What? What does that mean? Tubbo?" He ventured, and Tubbo shook his head. </p><p> "Nothing, Tommy." Tubbo placated, sounding anything but. Tommy feels a familiar flaring outburst in the pool of solemnness. "I thought I told you not to lie to me!" He faux seethes. "I don't know anything." The brunette responds flatly.</p><p> "Guys-" </p><p> "Oh shut up, dickhead, why'd you interrupt our conversation anyways!" </p><p> "This is <i> my </i> house-" </p><p> "You sound like a bastard, right now. Ranboo you are a bastard, you are bastardizing Tubbo. " </p><p> "Wha- I thought you guys were having an emotional breakthrough! Can I not be involved in the conversation?" </p><p> "Of course not! You are very Clingy, Ranboo. Clingy man." </p><p> "You are currently the one attached to Tubbo's side." The tall prick points out dryly, and Tommy goes silent as Tubbo laughs high. </p><p> They fall quiet soon after that, the ice under them broken, so Tommy breathes in the cool water underneath it.  They're not done yet, no, there's still a layer of mistrust within Tommy's ice contained eyes, and Tubbo's brief mention of nightmares is more than worrying. Tommy has noticed Ranboo's own tendency to wander and panic, and the possessive purple glow he remembers seeing once a snowy night. </p><p> For now, Ranboo grabs them christmas themed mugs, and fills them with sweet tasting tea. It warms his belly while they ponder in the stew of silence. Days with Tubbo aren't usually this somber, but they've both changed in such little time. </p><p> Tommy remembers he told Ranboo last night he'd leave this morning, but with Tubbo brushing against his side and blankets swirled in his laps, the early fire crackling near them with baby proof protective wire around it. He can't bring himself to. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I love u all it's so funny watching yall cry</p><p>*calls you babe platonically*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm winging every chapter with this fic. Every chapter I write is only guided by emotional distress and the undying desire for companionship. Yes this chapter is late. Do I care? Maybe. Shut up.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> "Tommy, do you know what touch-starved means?" Ranboo asks. </p><p> Tommy scowls, "Did I say you could speak?" Ranboo stares at him. Tall prick. </p><p> Tubbo sighs. "Tommy, do you know what touch- 'touch-starved' is?" </p><p> Tommy turns to his friend, "Why, no, Tubbo. Sounds terrible, what is it?" Michael's rotund head bumps into Tubbo's elbow repeatedly. The brunette let's the little lad do it. </p><p> "Means you're clingy." Tubbo replies, and Tommy remains rooted to his spot pressed into his side while he protests. "Am not! Fuck you, Ranboo!" Tommy says, whipping around to glare at the boy. </p><p> Ranboo has that expression on his face that screams 'I'll kill you' as he sips herbal tea. "N-no, it basically means you're all sad because you don't get touched enough." Ranboo explains. </p><p> "I'm sixteen." Tommy admits, pretending he doesn't understand, and ignoring the twinge of dread rising in his gut at the implications. "Boo, you really need to get better at phrasing things." Tubbo tells his husband, as Ranboo rubs his temples. Jesus. Poor guy. </p><p> "I <i> mean </i> that your body needs physical touch, hugs and crap, so when you don't have enough of that you lack a lot of endorphins most people have." The tall prick rattles off the definition, and Tommy squints at him. He knows this by heart. He ignores the increase of despair while he begins to realize where this conversation is going. </p><p> "You know a lot about this." The blond points out, sniffling. Ranboo only slightly tenses, big eyes fleeting. "Yeah well, it's something I had to deal with. Have to." </p><p> Tommy shifts, moving to look away. Tubbo hums gently as Michael dangles his head off the edge of the couch. Well, he did say they were all a bit scuffed in the ol' 'ead, didn't he? "Okay, what does that have to do with me?" </p><p> Ranboo laughs, bitch, lightly and warmly so that it tickles at Tommy's cheeks. "It's just, I thought maybe you have to deal with it too. If you need help." Oh god, no the intentions are straightforward now. Ranboo seems a bit nervous, and Tommy is terrified to realize how much he wants the unspoken offer. </p><p> Tommy had always had.. an odd relationship with touch. In the beginning, he had used and received it alltogether, whether it was light shoves or pats on the back, or a side-hug. Slowly enough, though, he'd felt himself distance, especially after exile. During both banishments he had shied away from touch, though even more so after Logstedshire. </p><p> Tommy hadn't necessarily <i> noticed </i> it, more subconsciously dismissed any attempt to give or get touch. He knew though. How much he missed being hugged by another person, feeling the pressure and warmth and- sometimes he'd curl up and shove a pillow against his side to fill the emptiness. It really was pathetic how much he both chased and bent away from anyone trying to touch him. </p><p> It was different, after prison. After Wilbur. After death. He winced at sudden touch, at fists and hands coming near so quick, but. Tubbo was different too, he pulled him in close, hands and body in sight as he hugged him. Maybe it was because Tubbo knew how it was, to flinch and fear and hurt. </p><p> Ranboo was like that too, he noticed. Gentle, worried, <i> knowing. </i> It killed Tommy to know how much they both knew. They both know Tommy is sick and disgusting for pining after closeness and pushing it away in favor for bitterness and rejection. It stung and itched to know Ranboo and Tubbo were nothing like him, but all alike just the same. 

</p><p> He hated it. </p><p> "I dunno." Tommy murmurs, tugging the throw pillow further into his side. Silence stretches on, so Tommy huffs a breath out of his nose. "What- Whatever. I don't care." He doesn't bother denying he is 'touch-starved' or crap, it'd be easier not to. </p><p> "Mhm, mhm." Ranboo hums, and vaguely Tommy hears Michael copy the sound. </p><p> And that's how Tommy found himself guiltily shuffling over to where Ranboo was sitting, after a couple hours of intense playing with Michael, who had over the course of time while they were chilling became increasingly antsy. Tubbo had finally put the lad to bed for a nap, and Tommy fidgeted as he slunk over to Ranboo's chair. </p><p> Ranboo blinked. "Do you need something, Tommy?" He shut his stupid little memory book. </p><p> "Ugh," Tommy groaned after a quiet moment, running a hand through his hair. "This is so stupid." He says. "Move over." </p><p> Ranboo shuffles in his seat in a hurry, eyes wide. Tommy plops down next to him, quickly settling into Ranboo's side. It's very sudden, and Tommy knows its dumb. However, Ranboo had been the one to offer earlier, and there was subtle chill nesting in his bones.</p><p> "Uh." Ranboo says, his arm hovering at his shoulders. Tommy huffs, sticking an arm behind Ranboo and curling it around his waist. This is. Hard, but Tommy knows Ranboo is too much of a pussy to initiate any bullshit he was spouting earlier, and Tommy was cold. So. Why not. </p><p> Ranboo awkwardly rests his arm over his shoulders, and Tommy nestles deeper into his side. Well. He's got this far. "Bitch." He mutters, and huffs a noisy breath into his neck. Ranboo twitches. </p><p> "Okay." The tall prick says, quietly. "Okay. This is- fine. This is good." Ranboo relaxes minutely into the touch, and Tommy- he hates it- snuggles into the warmth he provides. A fire burns warmly by a couple feet away. </p><p> it's a couple moments later, where Tommy just listens to the song of Ranboo breath, before the boy speaks. "Hey Tommy?" Ranboo shifts, leaning on his side. "What." Tommy deadpans, perching his chin on his shoulder. </p><p> "..Why did you follow me before?" </p><p> Tommy parts his lips, preparing to speak, before he closes them again. Theres another silence. "I guess. Michael missed you, and I. I was worried, okay?" Tommy grumbles, looking at the stitches in the couch. Ranboo splays his fingers out on his back. </p><p> "Worried?" Ranboo echoes, soft, irritatingly soft. "It makes me nervous." Tommy says. "When I don't know where people I care about are." Ranboo tenses, incredibly so, and Tommy feels his breath stutter. Tommy gulps. </p><p> He hadn't- meant to come off so sincere, but he did, so. "It- its different, though. Ranboo, your- you're <i> good. </i> For Tubbo. And Techno, and Phil." Tommy aches, and hides his face in the crook of Ranboo's neck. "I was tired, and bored. And I didn't want Tubbo to lose the first good thing he's had. Whatever, you weren't in danger." </p><p> Vulnerable. Tommy realizes. Hes so vulnerable around Ranboo, it's easy to. Easy to care and understand. Even with Tubbo its different, he cant- hes never been allowed to be vulnerable. He's not terribly sure if it's a good or bad thing. </p><p> Ranboo starts breathing again, slow, steady, deliberate. Tommy attempts to match it. He hates Ranboo- hes <i> supposed </i> to hate him, for stealing his best friend, for being the complete opposite of him, but its <i> hard </i> to. </p><p> "Im not." Ranboo exhales out, and Tommy muffles a questioning noise. </p><p> "I'm not the first good thing that happened to Tubbo." Ranboo explains, "You are. You always have been, Tommy. That never changed. It never will." </p><p> Tommy grips tightly to Ranboo's shirt, and prays he doesn't cry again. Ranboo twists in his seat, surrounding him with his arms and pulling his head close to his chest. "Its okay. Its okay." Ranboo mutters, petting his hair. </p><p> "Sorry." He chokes. Ranboo hums, legs pushed awkwardly to the side. "I put Michael in danger. I- I didnt really- I'm sorry I've learned to care so little." low sun streams through the blinds, slowly, and suddenly all at once as the sun hides behind the sky. Sunset. Has it really been two days already? </p><p> "You're not alone." Ranboo affirms, "You're with us now, we got you." Too much. Ranboo is too much. Tommy hiccups. "You arent the only one forced to stop caring." Ranboo admits, and Tommy knows who its about. He wishes he didn't. "Its okay. It's okay, we'll all learn together, okay? I'll teach you." The blond feels his throat burn. </p><p> "You'd be a shit teacher Ranboo. I know it." Ranboo laughs into his hair, pleasant and airy. They settle into a comfortable silence again, something Tommy didn't know he could have in the presence of <i> Ranboo. </i> </p><p> "Hey." Tommy murmurs, drowsy. Ranboo hums, something Tommy is starting to get used to. "Will you teach me how to- to heal?" </p><p> Gentle fire light washes over his eyelids, as he shuts them. "We'll all learn how to together. I promise." Tommy hates promises, but it's okay because the calmness that fills his mind is hopeful, and Tommy still isn't okay, but hes comforted that he will be. Trust has never been a good idea, but sometimes it's not a choice he can make. </p><p> As Tommy curls closer into the embrace, he realizes that maybe it's not such a bad thing. </p><p> He hears Tubbo's light footsteps coming down a latter, before he drifts back into a sleep. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've ended and started like every chapter with a character waking up and going to sleep. I hate it here lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Ranboo's interval</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> "Michael is in bed-" Tubbo begins loudly as he jumps from the latter, and Ranboo shushes him harshly. Jeez, so much for not waking Tommy up. </p><p> Tubbo whips around to tell him off, but staggers considerably at the sight of Tommy slumped against him. "Oh." He whispers loudly, and Ranboo rolls his eyes. "Asleep again?" Tubbo complains, and Ranboo nods. </p><p> "He must be tired from all the emotional turmoil." Ranboo tells him quietly, petting the soft mess of Tommy's hair. He still can't believe Tommy gave in so easily. It was great. "Is he?" Tubbo mutters, walking over to lean over the arm of the chair. </p><p> "How's Michael?" Ranboo inquires, steering away the topic even thought they were both staring at said topic. "Asleep. Or, I think. If he's not he'll just climb down here eventually. Your problem now." </p><p> Very helpful. Ranboo thinks drily, and shifts his knees together. "Thank you, thank you." </p><p> They reside in silence for a moment, where Ranboo can see Tubbo's face change fleetingly. "How you feeling, boss man?" Tubbo questions, quietly but enthusiastically as he brushes back hair from his husband's forehead and kisses his temple. Ranboo leans into the brief touch while he hums. 

</p><p> "Tired. Nervous. But good." Ranboo says, tucking his arms more comfortably around Tommy. Tubbo shrugs, grinning lopsidedly. "I bet man, Tommy is a good pillow." </p><p> Ranboo nods curtly, eyes shooting down to Tommy's sleeping face. Tubbo sighs again, ruffling Ranboo's hair. Ranboo knows he must love it, since he never gets to touch it since he is so down on the ground. "You can take a nap with Tommy, I'll check around on things okay? My boys. Gettin' along." </p><p> He is most definitely not going to sleep, but Ranboo raises an eyebrow, smile loopy. Ranboo ignores his last comment. "You sure? Usually you would take the first opportunity to hang around all night." </p><p> Tubbo shrugs again. "I've been doing that all week. You all need a break." </p><p> Ranboo softens, because truly, he knows how Tubbo works and how he thinks. "You deserve one too, you know that, right? As much as we want Tommy to know we're here to help give him a life, that means he wants you to be in it too." </p><p> Tubbo strains a smile. "I know. I'm having a bit of a hard time realizing Tommy even has another chance at life myself." He admits, and Ranboo barely ever sees him this somber. Ranboo aches for him, because he knows how much Tubbo had pushed away to avoid processing Tommy's death, to reach out to the only thing he knew to suppress the grief. </p><p> They were still working on that one. </p><p> Ranboo blinks drowsily, and reaches out slowly to take Tubbos wrist in his fingers. Tubbo tenses, but let's him. Ranboo took his hand, and jostles Tommy as he presses Tubbo's hand against his heartbeat. Tommy murmurs something wordless, curling his face into Ranboo's neck. </p><p> Tubbo stills, and Ranboo closes his eyes. "He's alive. You're alive. That's all that matters." </p><p> Tubbo exhales, and pulls his hand away limply. His shoulders sag, "Thanks Boo. Love you." He mumbles, and Ranboo smiles wide at the words. "Love you too." </p><p> "You're alive too." Tubbo tells him, and the enderman hybrid quirks his head. "It's not just me and Tommy. It's you too." Ranboo looks away, and is overcome with a burst of emotion. He releases it in smile. "Yeah I know." </p><p> Tubbo shakes his head like a wet dog, adjusting his coat. "Ugh, god, emotions. I'm tired of it." He shivers, and Ranboo laughs lightly. </p><p> "Let's go somewhere soon, okay? Talk and stuff." Ranboo requests, and Tubbo pauses in the doorway to nod. Ranboo let's his gaze drop back to Tommy as the door shuts, pondering silently. </p><p> Ranboo loves them. All of them, so much. He knows Tubbo is angry, and desperately avoiding his feelings, just as Tommy does the same. Maybe Ranboo's like that too, ignoring the voice lurking in the back of his mind and the book digging into his side. Thing is, he's realized how much that needs to change. </p><p> Over the minutes, spent in the pleasant, but terrifying presence of Tommy, he's learned that they don't need to change alone. However hard that was for Ranboo to admit to himself, and however difficult it'd be for Ranboo to make Tubbo go to therapy, (he needs it, bad) it didn't matter. </p><p> There was a certain constant that came into his life recently. A constant that made Ranboo want to make sure the world is ready for him, and he is ready for the world. Michael deserves it, he deserves a happy family, a stable relationship, everything. </p><p> Ranboo would do anything to make it that way for him, and finding the people he cares about truly in his family along the way made it even more worth it. </p><p> Ranboo hears a soft plunk of little feet climbing down wood, and he closes his eyes as he hears the toddler creep across the floor. Ranboo let's his lip quirk up as Michael's small footsteps sound nearer, a snort resonating in the quiet room. Ranboo opens his eyes, Michael's wide ones meet his own from the floor. </p><p> "Papa." Michael whispers, and Ranboo smiles sweetly. "Hi, baby." </p><p> Tommy grumbles incomprehensibly, nuzzling into his neck. Michael gasps, and presses his index finger to his snout and throwing a look at his papa. Ranboo wordlessly lifts his own finger to his lips in agreement, and lowers a hand to help Michael climb up between him and the couch. </p><p> "Dada said you went to sleep." Ranboo tells Michael, who plops in the tiny space where Ranboo is squished against Tommy. </p><p> "I play pretend." Michael admits proudly, snuggling into his side. "I tricked Dada." Ranboo snickers, reaching over the side of the recliner to slowly protrude the footrest. Ranboo sighs and leans back, patting both his companions idly. </p><p> "Cunning little man. You sure got him good." Ranboo yawns as quietly as he can, and Michael giggles in the same manner. Ranboo's heart melts at the noise. </p><p> "I love you, Papa." Michael says, curling into his stomach. Ranboo feels warm, trapped between his son and his friend, the house filled with gentle nightlight and the whir of electricity. "I love you too, Michael." He doesn't attempt to stop the fierce vibration of a purr echoing in his chest and throat, just let's the sound lull his son to a dreamful sleep. </p><p> He doesn't go to sleep, no, not until Tubbo comes home, but he lies in wait. Acting as a solid pillar for the people who need one, knowing they act as his support in turn. He keeps his eyes open, this time not in fear of waking up outside, or dread of not remembering tomorrow, just a simple thought he knows to be true. </p><p> <i> Yeah. It'll be okay. </i> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>  "Yer a good man, Ranboo. Usually. This, this is not good." Tommy grumps, arms crossed as he weaves through the hanging branches waving in his face. </p><p> Ranboo giggles, lifting a packed section of dark oak branches to help Tubbo and Michael duck under them. "Oh, come on. I know you've been bored at snowchester." </p><p> "Doesn't mean I wanna go on a fuckin' hike!" Tommy complains. </p><p> It's a bright day today, the sun sits high in the sky and birds flutter and twitter as they fly by. Tommy had been <i> very </i> rudely woken up this morning by being shoved to the floor, (after refusing to get up for several minutes, but we don't talk about that) and promptly tackled by a certain toddler in a hyper manner. </p><p> Apparently, Michael was excited because they got to all go to a 'special safe place' that only he knew. At first, Tommy was incredibly concerned by this information until being informed it was a valley the family goes to for fun excursions. Well, the only place the parents deemed safe enough for taking Michael to. </p><p> Tommy had only agreed to come because they had invited, and because he couldn't bear to say no to Michael's thrilled look at the mention of Tommy tagging along. (It was NOT because he was afraid of leaving the knowing comfort of their home, and the possibility of never coming back. He was not afraid things would go back to the way they were, and he would remain back at square one. Of course not.) </p><p> They surely haven't been traveling for long, but it was long enough for Tommy to be impatient, purely because Ranboo's cryptic looks he kept sending his way creeped him the fuck out.</p><p> "Hey, we're here!" Tubbo called out from the front, hiking Michael up on his shoulders, where the child clung to his horns. From where Tommy could see, was just a blinding light of the blue sky above the frame of branches, and he squinted as he brought a hand to shadow his face. </p><p> The horizon was accompanied by low hills and far away mountains, and below it was a wide valley. Green grass and clovers stretch across the land, a dreamland of red and pink tulips, scoured with alliums and dandelions that Michael jumps into as he is let down. Tommy feels breathless by its beauty, a human sense of appreciation flooding in. </p><p> Blue skies are far beyond, white fluffy clouds roll over its expanse. The sun shines through them, and Ranboo picks up Michael to swing him around in the beams. Tommy stands, half under the shade of dark oak trees and half beneath the brightness of the sun. </p><p> Tubbo turns to grin at him, "Fucking brilliant isn't it?" </p><p> Tommy nods curtly, and slides down a slope of dirt to meet Tubbo's side. Michael is running from Ranboo, giggling while he crawls through long patches of grass. Ranboo could easily catch him, but slows and steps only close enough to call out oblivious wonderings of where his son had gone. </p><p> Tubbo hangs back with Tommy, choosing instead to sit in a small patch of grass that shorts just by their ankles, instead of by their knees. Tommy wobbly plops down next to him, fingers curling into the thick layer of clovers over the shadowed green grass. </p><p> Michael jumps onto Ranboos back, little fists clinging into the fabric of his shirt as he dangles. The baby zombie piglin scrambles, digging his hooves in Ranboo's back to swing his legs over his shoulders. Ranboo yelps, teetering awkwardly to help keep the child upright on top of him, but laughing somewhat airily at the kid's actions. </p><p> "Kick his ass, Michael!" Tubbo calls with a high warble, cupping his hands around his mouth. Ranboo stumbles and turns to glare at his husband, to which the brunette only stares back. Their staring match is luckily interrupted by Michael shouting "Kick his ass!" In a reply. </p><p> Tommy stifles the loud wheeze of laughter that rings from him, leaning forward with a quiet; "Okay, great start to the day." </p><p> There's a couple times where they switch out amongst themselves, Tubbo plays with Michael and Tommy forces Ranboo to build a semi-dirt shack next to them, and decorate it in multi-colored flowers. Though, Ranboo pauses a couple times, just to stare at him. Just, stare. Tommy doesn't know what it means still, but he sees the same look in the way Ranboo looks at flowers. He opts to ignore it, and throws a spray of loose dirt at Ranboos chest. </p><p> Tubbo goes off some where with their son, probably harassing a cow or a chicken Michael would get unreasonably attached to. Tommy wouldn't blame the lad, Tubbo is the same way. Like parent like child, he supposes. </p><p> Tubbo would return to them, and Ranboo would occupy Michael with his twin tails swinging back and forth. Again, Tommy sits in an area near the half-built shack, messing with the stray woodlice and ladybugs passing by. </p><p> His friend sits to the left of him, huffing out breaths as he rolls his sleeves back in the shining sun. </p><p>It has been very. Quiet. Between them. Just for awhile, and not noticeable enough for them to formulate words about it, but it was there. They never were quiet together before, way back when they were fierce and rebellious and uncaring of the destruction they left in their wake. They would laugh and promise each other things that were never enough.  </p><p>But for now, between two tired warred teens, it was quiet. </p><p>"Tommy." Tubbo says, and Tommy follows his gaze of emotion fixed on Ranboo and Michael's forms, stumbling and playing in the fields. </p><p>"Yeah?" </p><p>"You said that you.. missed Wilbur. Earlier?" Tubbo decides, and his tone teeters off into uncertainty. Tommy gulps past the sudden thickness in his throat. </p><p>Ah, so that's what this is about. </p><p>He doesn't manage to voice his affirmation, so he just nods, and looks at the side of Tubbo's eye. </p><p>"But, I thought you hated him. Didn't you?" Genuine confusion, and simple compulsion pushes Tommy to reply. "Maybe. I don't think I could ever- truly, hate him. Not the full him, you know." </p><p>The breeze lifts leaves and briskly pulls them away, carrying their conversation as well. Tubbo drifts his eyes away from his family and lands on Tommy, and he lifts a hand to push his too-long hair out of his eyes. "Yeah. I know." </p><p>Once again, they drift into silence. Other than the turning wind and the worried voice of Ranboo, and muffled giggles of a baby piglin. </p><p>"Have you thought about what I said? About- healing, you know?" Tubbo asks, eyes flitting to his lap. Tommy blanks for a moment, and reels back to remember. </p><p>
  <i> "You can choose if you want to spend your days losing them, or lose them with the people you love. I chose the latter, and that means even if I have no idea what I'm doing, I have no idea what I'm doing with someone else. And that. That's what it is to heal." </i>
</p><p> Yeah. Yeah. Tommy watches a ladybug crawl across his knuckles, and in the corner of his eyes he sees allium flowers (Ranboo's favorite, he remembers) sway in the breeze. </p><p> "Y'know, Tubbo. You are one of the few people that makes me want to try." Tommy speaks slowly, and the boy next to him observes him with an all too familiar smile. A smile like the times he smiled in L'manberg, when they donned blue and yellow suits and wore newly sewn hats and douchey handkerchiefs to accommodate Wilbur's dramatics. Except, his smile still has changed a bit, a little more like Ranboo's, and a lot more hopeful. Strangely, Tommy doesn't think it's a bad thing. </p><p> "Yeah, if I told you not to do something you'd probably do something anyways to annoy me." Tubbo remarks, but without bite. Tommy grins, "That's why you're so remarkable." </p><p> He would try. He would try again. For Tubbo. For that smile, for Ranboo's hugs, and for Michael's sweet laughter. He didn't know it then, he didn't know the true meaning behind that day yet, but he does. Maybe that's the most beautiful thing, sitting upon the grass, looking over the range of land, Tubbo at his side, just like the old days. Just like when they would watch over the sky, sat upon that old bench knowing absolutely nothing about the world. </p><p> The real, beautiful thing is that they still know nothing. Maybe not nothing, they know the truth and horrific lies built into war, the severity and control it takes to become a leader, how to bandage a stab wound. They know how to fight, how to fear, how to cry. The world truly does work in such mysterious ways. </p><p> Tommy doesn't know how to be normal. Doesn't know how to cook, how to sew, how to touch, he doesn't even know how to be a teenager. But it's okay, because Tubbo doesn't know either. And neither does Ranboo, but that's the most fun part. They're all going to learn together. </p><p> How to get better, how to live. And that really is just the least of it.</p><p> When the sun burns low, they pack away things they've brought, gather their thoughts, promise Michael to return soon, and trek back. </p><p> They're midway home to Snowchester, and Tommy stops them to say goodbye. </p><p> "Goodbye?" Ranboo wrinkles his eyebrows together, and Tommy nods. "Yes, I better be getting home. Thank you for letting me stay, big man." This time, it's sincere, because Tommy has decided he does want to go back to his house, buried into the hill above the DreamSMP lands, free from their previous ruler. </p><p> "Leaving, are you?" Tubbo questions, Michael wrapped in his arms like a doll, all of them covered in armor and protective gear. Tommy nods, and he smiles. </p><p> "Yeah. I'll visit." There's a small part that wants him to go with them, but he let's it swim up in his mind, and reasons with it. He doesn't want to be dependent on them, he wants to be able to leave and come as he pleases, but despite the touch he knows he craves, he just as easily prefers his own space. </p><p> It's been a long couple of days, and he has things to do. Talk to Puffy, maybe. Learn how he wants to try, how he wants to talk to Tubbo and Ranboo about it. He wants to learn how to comfort his friends too, and provide them with the same amount of care they showed him. Tommy's tired of not caring, or being angry, or being sad. </p><p> No matter how much he finds comfort in it, or the familiarity of tyranny and destruction, hes <i> tired </i> of the aftermath. </p><p> He will talk to Ranboo and Tubbo again, he still even longs for learning how to be in that kind of family again. But first, carefully, he wants to know how to be better. </p><p> Tubbo has been dealing with his shit for so long, and Tommy has done very little to earn that. Before he can try to be in their lives, or be in their family, he has to know how to live, not just survive. It doesn't matter if its without Tubbo and Ranboo, because he wants to aid them with that as well, and maybe they can help him too. </p><p> It will take work, and time. Tommy knows, with or without Tubbo and his husband, he wants to learn how to heal both ways. He wants to be able to smile for himself, and for the sudden hope this family has brought into his future. </p><p> He will not be alone, but for now, dragging his feet against the soil path across his yard, he knows. If he gets pushed back to square one, if he dies, if he forgets everything he's ever known, he will start again. Again, again, and again. </p><p> For Tubbo, for Ranboo, for Michael, for Puffy. For Wilbur. For himself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm OBESESSED with Lovejoy's album, my god! The songs are all so wonderful! My favorite was taunt and one day :)!<br/>Btw, the field they went to is a field where Ranboo dedicated a bunch of flowers as a memorial to Tommy. That's why it's so important :)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The journey to coexisting friendships and familial love shared between three traumatized teens and a baby zombie piglin.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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